ilt for himself for a
summer residence, with a sloping roof, and a little door that fastened
with a pin outside, when he wished to be private; and as every house
which has not a number must have a name (so that the postman may know
where to leave the letters), it was called Nourhadeen (because of the
fair Persian), and the tenant of it was called Fluffy.

Of course, since a gift is a gift, it was papa's own Fluffy, but that
did not prevent its being the pet of the whole house, baby included; and
to see these two little creatures together was (almost) as good as a
play. One was so black, and the other so pink and white, and yet both so
soft and warm, and about equal as to talking. For though baby could
babble, he couldn't purr, and though Fluffy could purr, she couldn't
babble, while neither could stand up on their hind-legs for more than
two seconds together.

But when it came to climbing, baby was nowhere. Fluffy was but three
months old, but she was oftener on the roof of her house--where baby
could _never_ have got--than in it, while if dear mamma came near her,
with her long flounces, Fluffy was on them at once, and stuck there like
a hairy burr. That was the sad thing about Fluffy, she was such a
gad-about, being everywhere where you didn't expect her to be; and so
tiny that even when you did expect her, nobody knew she was there.

She was lost about ten times a day, and found in the most astonishing
places. Once in mamma's work-box, where she was looked for, but not
seen, being taken for a ball of worsted; and once in papa's
shooting-jacket pocket, who took her to his office with him, under the
impression that she was his seal-skin tobacco pouch.

Moreover, a very fashionable lady called one day, and took Fluffy right
away with her, the poor little dear having clung to her mantle, and been
amalgamated with its fur trimmings.

To say that dear papa was "weak" about the fair Persian is to take a
very favorable view of his devotion to her; but dear mamma said it was
"quite ridiculous to make such a fuss about a kitten"--and never herself
lost a chance of picking it up and fondling it in her arms. The rest of
the family were described by their cousin Charley, who lived over the
way, as "sunk in the Persian superstition," and even as "addicted to
nigger worship"--an allusion to Fluff's sable hue.

And now comes the best part of the story, which is, of course, the
"creepy-crawly" and horrible part.

Cousin Charl